


Coming to Terms

by ilcuoreardendo



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Vampire hunting, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8880850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: There are a few things you accept when you hunt vampires.
  One is that you’ll most likely die.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic from my [Tumblr](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com).

* * *

There are a few things you accept when you hunt vampires.

One is that you’ll most likely die. This isn’t television. There’s no Scooby Gang, no Watchers, no mysterious stranger to haul your ass out of the fire when the flames get too close.

Another is that you’ll probably die in the way that’s most horrible to you. 

Charley had come to terms with that. 

Or so he’d thought. 

When they are caught unaware. When Peter’s been ripped away and the last Charley hears of him are his profanity laced screams. When there’s fetid breath in Charley’s face and fangs scraping the tender skin beneath his jaw…Charley realizes you can never truly prepare yourself for the end. 

When the scalpel-sharp bite comes, followed by the hot, wet mouth that worries the torn skin, Charley rolls his eyes to the side and tries his best not to make a sound. At least he can die without whimpering. 

There’s a flurry of movement nearby, the sound of glass breaking, the wet splintering noise of bodies being ripped apart. A moment later, the weight of the vampire on top of him is gone and Charley hears the unmistakable pop-snap of a neck breaking. The vampire drops to the floor. His head falls several feet away. 

Charley sits up, but the room spins and he drops onto to his elbows, closes his eyes and tries not to vomit. Blood trickles sticky and warm down his neck, under the collar of his shirt. Swallowing thickly, he opens his eyes and finds a familiar face staring down at him. A face that shouldn’t be here. A face that belonged to a vampire he’d torched and staked nearly a year ago. 

“In over your head again, kid?” Jerry says. He draws a finger over the mess on Charley’s neck then lifts it to his mouth, the tip of his tongue darting out to gather the blood. He sighs deeply, licks his lips, and gives Charley a look normally reserved for unruly children. A look that makes Charley think of small rooms, sterile white walls and handle-less doors.

“I think,” says Jerry, “I have a solution for that." 


End file.
